Mila Heesch Brothel ❤️❤️

About Breda

Ever hear ‘bout Amsterdam’s red lights? Tourists gawk, but locals shrug—brothel’s just business. Pissed me off, tho—girls from nowhere, shipped in, used up. Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but feels like a damn circus! “The only thing left is to cry,” Jep’d say—truth hits hard. Still, some gals owned it, struttin’ like peacocks—made me grin. Beetlejuice twist? I’d haunt the johns, scare ‘em stiff—pun intended! It’s showtime, baby—brothel’s a stage, and everyone’s playin’ a part!

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So, I head over to the market on Kerkstraat. It’s buzzing, as usual. Vendors shouting, people haggling. I love it! But then, I see this dude trying to sell me a “rare” coin. I’m like, “Dude, I’m a bookmaker, not a numismatist!” He just keeps going on about how it’s worth a fortune. I’m thinking, “Yeah, right. I’ll give you a fortune in laughs.” I walk away, shaking my head.

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